


Double Bed

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Pre-Femslash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, Cassandra and Josephine end up sharing a bed.





	Double Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little light fluffy thing, for summery days.

When Cassandra dismounts her horse, she bends her knees a couple of times and groans; her joints are stiff from sitting in the same position for a long time, and she is not young enough not to feel it. Cassandra brushes some dirt off her pants, and gratefully accepts Iron Bull’s offer to take care of their mounts. Horses were never her strength, and Bull, knowing this, will spare her the humiliation of having to handle several of them at once.

After spending a few days in the Orlesian capital to accompany Josephine on an errand, they are now well on their way back to their base of operations high up in the Frostback mountains. Skyhold is beckoning them a mere day away, but for the night they will have to resort to a roadside inn.

 _The Wayward Wanderer_ is an establishment they have frequented before, and arrangements have been made ahead of their arrival. They all but drag their exhausted bodies across the threshold. Upon their entrance, however, they are met with disappointment.

“I’m afraid we have made a mistake, and the rooms you requested are not the ones still available.” The young man behind the desk rifles through documents, sweat forming on his forehead.

The Inquisitor promptly sinks onto a chair. Cassandra cannot blame her; they have been seated upon horseback for a long time, and rest is what all of them are yearning for.

Josephine appeases to the best of her ability, making the poor desk employee blush and stammer. He repeats that he truly cannot arrange different rooms, for they are full for the night. Eventually Josephine takes pity on him; he is only the messenger and not responsible for the incorrect treatment of their bookings.

“We have two rooms with double beds instead of single beds, and there are no other rooms available,” Josephine says, turning around to the Inquisitor, but the latter’s eyes are closed, her chest moving up and down slowly. “Well, then,” she sighs. “Anyone willing to share a room with me?”

The Inquisitor opens one eye and groans.

“Such enthusiasm,” Josephine notes with mild amusement. “Perhaps you would rather share a room with Seeker Cassandra, then?”

“But that would leave you to share a bed with Bull, and that will not do.” The Inquisitor frowns through her fatigue. “I will take your spot, Josephine, and you can share a room with Cassandra. I’ve shared a tent with Bull more times than I can count and I am therefore used to half of the space of my bedroll being filled with qunari limbs.”

“Hey now Boss, I thought that was between the two of us,” Iron Bull says.

The Inquisitor shows an impressive eye roll at that, immediately followed by a small smile that she fails to hide.

“Well, then,” Josephine rubs her hands together, undoubtedly satisfied her bedroom negotiations went this well.

They are shown to their rooms by a tall, freckled elf. She unlocks the door and quickly sets to work; she lights the candles, puffs up the pillows, and gives the room a quick once-over. It’s such a routine for her that she has exited the room before Cassandra has the chance to put down her bag.

The smell of fresh sheets hits Cassandra when she walks further into the room. Josephine follows closely behind, putting down her luggage and hanging her purse over the back of the only chair in sight.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Cassandra says immediately.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Josephine sighs in exasperation. “You have to sit on your horse for at least five hours tomorrow, and I want to prevent you from being as stiff as these floor boards. The bed might be small, but not the smallest I have shared with someone.”

Cassandra doesn’t ask what that means. She inhales through her nose and lets out a deep breath before putting her bag onto the bed. The mattress sinks underneath its weight. Cassandra inspects the bed; it seems to be devoid of bed bugs or other surprises. In fact, it looks so inviting that Cassandra immediately wants to crawl under the sheets and heed the sweet call of sleep.

First, though, she needs a wash and a change of clothes. Although Cassandra is not completely above sleeping in dusty garments, she is to share a bed with someone who is much less likely to consider this a hygienic practice.

Josephine takes off her gloves and slips out of her leather vest, then her blouse, leaving her in her riding pants and a chemise. Cassandra is glad to know Josephine doesn’t wear a corset when riding a horse; she finds it hard to believe that it would be beneficial to her health. Josephine stretches her arms above her head and cracks her spine; Cassandra can hear her soft exhale of relief.

“You don’t mind if I wash myself first, do you?” Josephine says, retrieving a few things from her travel bag and putting them on the bed. She looks longingly at the screen in the corner of the room that separates a small stand with a washing basin and towels.

“Of course not. I was going to suggest the same,” Cassandra says, taking off her boots and moving on to her breastplate.

“Such gallantry,” Josephine teases, and Cassandra rolls her eyes.

Josephine disappears behind the screen. Cassandra can hear her humming softly through the sounds of a sponge splashing into the basin and being pressed back against her skin.

Cassandra lifts one of her books from her bag and settles in the chair. She opens the cover and turns the pages towards the candlelight, but she is so tired that the words on the page fail to register in her brain. Instead, Cassandra’s eyes move from the screen to the nightgown that is neatly laid out on Josephine’s side of the bed. Cassandra glares back at the corner, and when she is certain she isn’t being watched, leans over and touches the fabric. She briefly lets her fingers brush across the frills - they are softer than she imagined. The garment is made of cotton that actually feels thick enough to protect Josephine at night. Cassandra is not sure whether to be satisfied or disappointed with her findings, but decides it is none of her business to ask questions about Lady Montilyet’s nightwear of choice.

Cassandra sits back up and wonders what sort of luxuries Josephine is used to. Is sleeping in roadside inns uncomfortable for her? Does it bother her to spend days away from solid structures and the desk in the warmth of her office? There is barely any warm water in this establishment, and every time the tenants of the room next to theirs move as much as a leg, they can hear it. If the predicament irks her, Josephine is hiding it well.

Focusing on her novel again, Cassandra finally manages to be absorbed in the story. She doesn’t notice Josephine leaving the space behind the screen until she is standing in front of her.

“What are you reading?” Josephine asks out of what seems genuine curiosity. Her head is bent into her towel while she tries to clear some water out of her ear. She is only wearing underpants, and the white  frills forming a sharp contrast with her brown skin. Cassandra catches a flash of navel and the stretch marks that spread over Josephine’s waist and hips.

_I wonder if she feels as soft as she looks._

Cassandra blinks. This is neither the time nor the place to be having those thoughts. Cassandra marks the page in the book to give her hands something to do, trying to ignore the sudden heat that creeps up her neck.

“No need to stop reading on my account. There is no judgment, I assure you,” Josephine says, putting on her nightgown.

“Nothing scandalous,” Cassandra says quickly as she closes the book to put the title on display.

“Your actions say otherwise,” Josephine says with a small smile.

Cassandra laughs and looks at the novel in her lap. It is an older chapter of _Hard in Hightown_ she packed for their journey because she hasn’t read it in a while. She always carries a book with her on their travels, even if she doesn’t expect to read it after all.

“I suppose it’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

“I understand, but really, there is no need,” Josephine insists. She walks over to her bag and starts rummaging through its contents. Eventually she finds what she’s looking for: a book that she holds up for Cassandra to see.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with this author.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s an old friend of mine, and although her work isn’t very widely known, it is quite enjoyable.” Josephine gestures with the book. “If you do not think it too forward, I would recommend it to you. I know of your fondness of romance stories, and this one that is very dear to me. If you want to, you can borrow it once we are back at Skyhold.”

Cassandra blinks, wishing she could push her blush back into her cheeks. Although Josephine seems much less inclined to tease her about her taste in literature, it remains a topic Cassandra is reluctant to discuss with others.

“I appreciate the gesture,” she says stiffly, and then, slightly less stilted, because she does not wish to antagonize Josephine: “I could use a recommendation; I might take up on your offer.”

Josephine smiles and climbs onto the bed, hiding her legs under the blanket and opening her own book.

Cassandra marks her reading progress and gets up from the chair to prepare for bed.

Behind the screen, Cassandra takes off her gambeson and undershirt. She stretches her arms behind her back, and her body rewards her with the release of tension from her muscles. She takes her braid from the top of her head and ruffles her fingers through her hair to get rid of the worst of the dust. Quickened by years of practice, Cassandra washes her armpits and folds her hands into a bowl to splash her face. She takes the towel from the pile and dabs at her slicked back hair.

Cassandra begins taking off her pants, but somehow she manages to get caught in the leg with her toes, and curses silently in response when she awkwardly hops around and hits the wall.

“Are you all right?” Josephine’s bright voice chimes in from the other side of the screen, and Maker help her, is Josephine _laughing_?

Cassandra grumbles a confirmation, walks around the screen as though nothing happened, and quickly grabs a clean shirt from her bag. She yawns, and makes for the bed. Her entire body feels lighter when she hits the mattress, and her eyes become heavy the moment her head hits the pillow. Next to her, Josephine blows out the candle.

“Good night, Cassandra,” Josephine says softly, and Cassandra finds herself holding her breath with the unexpected intimacy of having Josephine whisper her name in the dark like this.

“Night,” Cassandra says, before she can think of what any of this means. Well, if Josephine didn’t think her a rube before, she certainly does now.

Cassandra falls asleep quickly, finding comfort in knowing she will sleep in her own loft above the Skyhold forge next night.

Unfortunately, Cassandra wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes she is embraced by the cold air around her. She is no longer covered by the blankets she curled up under, and groggily wonders where they have gone. She grasps around her in the dark, trying to locate the covers. Her hand stops when she feels the bundled up covers around Josephine’s sleeping form.

Josephine is soundly asleep, snoring softly. Cassandra tries tugging on the blankets, but Josephine’s grip is surprisingly firm. Cassandra tries again, but to no avail: Josephine keeps the blankets firmly tucked around her. What is more, Josephine kicks against Cassandra’s shin. Cassandra makes a pained noise – who would’ve thought the Ambassador had so much strength in her legs?

Cassandra stands up from the bed. She tries to remain quiet, but the floor boards croak underneath her feet as she walks over to her belongings. She retrieves a travel blanket from her luggage. She had really hoped she wouldn’t be needing this: the blanket is itchy, its rough fur tickling Cassandra’s skin, but at least it is large enough to cover all of her.

By the time she makes it back to the bed and sinks down onto her pillow, Cassandra has made too much noise, and has awoken Josephine, who, despite her sleep-fogged mind, quickly notices what the issue is.

“Oh, oh no,” she mumbles, grabbing onto the sheets and attempting to push them back onto Cassandra’s half of the bed, made difficult because her limbs are clumsy with sleep. “I’m so sorry, here, take them back, please.”

“You can keep them, it’s fine, really,” Cassandra says without much conviction.

“No, no,” Josephine says groggily, her cheek rubbing against her pillow. “It is not. I insist.”

“Right,” Cassandra says curtly, then grabs the covers and pulls them back over herself. She spreads the travel blanket on top of them for extra warmth. With renewed comfort, Cassandra turns her back to Josephine, and closes her eyes again.

However, sleep will not come as easily this time. Cassandra tosses and turns, but no matter how long she tries, she lies awake, staring at the back of her eyelids. When her body finally gives in, light comes shining through the thin curtains, and the birdsong outside their window starts reaching its crescendo.

None of their ensemble looks particularly well-rested in the morning. Still, Cassandra has to admit she is glad Josephine insisted on sleeping in the bed; Cassandra would’ve been little more than a wooden doll if she hadn’t done so.

They take their time for breakfast, but after that it is time to leave; they saddle their horses and commence the last part of their journey back to Skyhold.

* * *

Eleven months later, carried by serendipity, Cassandra and Josephine find themselves in the same inn.

“Is this the same room we shared before?” Josephine lets her fingers slide over the room screen. “Oh, I’m sure it was, remember, when we returned from settling my business with the House of Repose?”

“I’m not sure,” Cassandra says, but upon inspecting the room a little closer she realizes that Josephine’s eyes have not betrayed her, and that this observation might be important to her.

“Now that you mention it, I think it is,” Cassandra agrees. “If I recall correctly, the bed was quite comfortable. That is, when you get to sleep underneath the blankets.”

A satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Josephine’s lips.

“I don’t think I could forget the first time I robbed you of your blankets,” Josephine laughs coyly.

“It certainly wasn’t the last time,” Cassandra says. She steps closer to Josephine and wipes the roadside dust off Josephine’s nose with her thumb. She sweeps her hand over the curve of Josephine’s cheek, and Josephine closes her eyes and breathes deeply as Cassandra softly presses her mouth to hers.

“Hmm,” Josephine hums. “It has been a long day. Let us wash off the dirt and go to sleep.”

Cassandra nods, albeit reluctantly, and takes a step back.

Josephine takes the braid out of her hair with practiced fingers, and Cassandra cannot help herself but be mesmerized by the dark strands that come cascading down Josephine’s shoulders.

Josephine catches Cassandra staring, and winks.

Maker, did it really take Cassandra as long as it did to figure out her feelings? Josephine is a gem, beautiful, precious, and worth protecting. Their love is new, still, but it is expanding and growing more secure every day. As silly as it may be, Cassandra would like to believe that it’s a sign that they’re staying in the same room as nearly a year ago.

Josephine turns her back to Cassandra to take off her clothes, but she gasps when Cassandra embraces her from behind and buries her nose in her hair, their laughter of joy carried down the hallway.


End file.
